"Why—why—why——" stammered Hopewell Drugg, and could say no more.

The others had noted Massey's accusing glance at the schoolmaster; but not even Walky Dexter commented upon it at the moment.

"Come, Hopewell!" exclaimed the druggist; "where did you get it?"

"Where—where did I get the gold piece?" repeated the storekeeper, weakly.

"Yes. Who paid it in to you? Hi, man! surely you don't think for a moment I accuse you of having stolen the coin collection—or having guilty knowledge of the theft?"

"Oh, Mr. Massey! what are you saying?" cried the storekeeper's wife.

"The coins?" whispered Hopewell. "Is that one of them?"

"Jefers-pelters!" ejaculated Walky, "Here's a purty mess."

"Who gave it to you?" again demanded Mr. Massey.

"Why, it would be hard to say offhand," the storekeeper had sufficient wit to reply.

"Oh, but Hopewell!" implored the druggist. "Don't ye see what I am after? Stir yourself, man! Perhaps we are right on the trail of the thief—this is maybe a clue," and he cast another glance at Nelson as though he feared the schoolmaster might try to slip out of the store if he did not watch him.

Nelson came forward to the counter. At first he had grown very red; now he was quite pale and the look of scorn and indignation he cast upon the druggist might have withered that person at a time of less excitement.

"I ran 'way up here the minute my wife gave me that gold piece,
Hopewell," Massey continued. "Don't you remember how you came by it?"

"He means, Mr. Drugg," broke in Nelson, "that he suspects you got it from me. Now tell him, if you please: Have I passed a gold piece over your counter since the robbery—that piece, or any other?"

"Not—not to my knowledge, Mr. Haley," the storekeeper said, shaking his head slowly.

"Oh, Nelson!" gasped Janice, coming nearer and touching his arm lightly.

The young man's hands were clenched. He had a temper and it nearly mastered him now. But he had learned to control himself. Otherwise he could never have been as successful as he was in handling his pupils. His eyes darted lightning at the druggist; but the latter was too excited to realize Nelson Haley's mood.

"This fellow has been to the postmaster to try to discover if I bought my money-order the other day with gold coin; but the postmaster obeyed the rules of the Department and refused to answer. He and the other committeemen are doing every underhanded thing possible to injure me. Cross Moore even tried to get into my rooms to search my trunk—but Mrs. Beaseley threatened him with a broom.

"It doesn't surprise me that Mr. Massey should attempt in this way to find what he calls 'a clue.' The only clue he and his friends are looking for is something with which to connect me with the robbery."

Janice's light touch on his arm again, stayed his wrathful words; but the druggist's freckled face glowed—red under the young man's gaze.

"Wal!" he grunted, shortly, "we're bound to look after our own skins—not after yours, Mr. Haley."

"I believe you!" exclaimed the schoolmaster in scorn, and turned away.

"But, say, Hopewell, ye ain't answered me yet," went on Massey, again addressing the storekeeper.

"Well—I couldn't say offhand——"

"Great goodness, Hopewell!" cried Massey, pounding his fist upon the counter for emphasis, "you're the most exasperating critter. If this—this—— If Mr. Haley didn't give you the coin, who did?"

"Why—I—I——"

Drugg was slow enough at best. Now he was indeed very irritating. He was not the man to allow anything he said to injure another, if he could help it.

"Le's see," he continued; "I've had that gold piece sev'ral days. I am sure, of course, that Mr. Haley did not give it to me. No. Come to think of it——"

"Well?" gasped Mr. Massey.

"I do remember the transaction, now. It—it was give me as an option on my violin," said Hopewell Drugg, with growing confidence. "Yes. I remember now all about it."

"What's that? Yer fiddle, Hopewell?" put in Dexter. "Ye ain't goin' ter sell yer fiddle?"

"I must," Hopewell said simply. "I accepted that ten dollar gold piece and two five dollar bills, as a payment upon it."

"Who from?" demanded Massey, sticking to his text, and that only.

"Young Joe Bodley, of the Lake View Inn."

"Joe Bodley! Why, he was abed when them coins was stolen—I know that," blurted out the druggist, very much disappointed. "Lem Parraday 'tends bar himself forenoons, for Joe's allus up till past midnight. You know that, Walky."

"Ya-as—f'r sure," agreed the expressman. "But one o' these here magazine deteckatiffs might be able ter hook up Joe with them missin' coins, jes' the same. Mebbe he's a sernamb'list," suggested, Walky, with a sly grin.

"A what?" demanded Massey, with a startled look. "He's an Odd Feller, an' a Son o' Jethro. I don't know what other lodges he b'longs to."

"Jefers-pelters!" ejaculated Walky, "who's talkin' about lodges? I mean mebbe Joe walks in his sleep. He might ha' stole them coins when he was sernamb'latin' about——"

The druggist snorted. "That's some o' your funny business, I s'pose, Walky Dexter. If you stood ter lose four hundred dollars you wouldn't chuckle none about it, I'm bound."

"Mebbe that's so," admitted Walky. "But I dunno's I'd go around suspectin' everybody there was of stealin' that money. Caesar's wife—er was it his darter?—wouldn't 'scape suspicion in your mind, Mr. Massey."

"By hickory!" exclaimed the exasperated druggist, "I'd suspect my own grandmother!"

"Sure ye would—ef ye thought by so doin' ye'd escape payin' out four hundred dollars! Hay! haw! haw!" laughed the expressman. "Ye ac' right fullish, Massey. All sorts of money is passed over that bar. I seen a feller count out forty pennies there t'other day for a flask of whiskey: an' I bet he'd either robbed his baby's bank, or the missionary-fund box. Haw! haw! haw!"

"You can laugh," began the druggist, looking sour enough, when Walky broke in again:

"Sure I can. It's lucky I can, too. If I couldn't laff at most of the folks that live in this town, I'd be tempted ter commit sooicide—that's right! And you air one of the most amusin' of the lot, Massey. Them other committeemen run ye a clost second."

"Oh! I can't stop here and fool with you all day, Walky Dexter," snapped the druggist, pretty well worked up by now. "I tell ye this gold piece is a clue——"

"Mebbe," said Walky. "Mebbe 'tis a clue. But I reckon it's what them magazine deteckatifs call a blind clue. Haw! haw! haw! An' afore ye git anywhere with it, it'll proberbly go on crutches an' be deef an' dumb inter the bargain!"

Massey did not look as though he enjoyed these gibes much. "I'll go down an' see Joe," he grunted. "Mebbe he'll know something about it."

"I hope you do not expect to find that I spent that ten dollar gold piece at the Inn bar," said Nelson, bitterly.

"Well! I'll find out how it got into Joe's hands," growled Massey.

"If Joe tells you," chuckled Walky. "An' do stop for yer hat, Massey.
You'll ketch yer death o' dampness."

The druggist had opened a fruitful subject for speculation. Those he left behind in the store were eagerly interested. Indeed, Janice and Nelson could not fail to be excited by the occurrence, and the latter rode home with Janice in the car to talk the matter over with Uncle Jason.

"Of course," the schoolmaster said, when the family was assembled in the sitting room of the old Day house, "that gold piece may not be one of those stolen at all. There are plenty of ten dollar gold pieces in circulation."

"Not in Polktown!" exclaimed Uncle Jason.

"And if we are to believe Mr. Massey," added Janice, "there are not many ten dollar gold pieces of that particular date in existence."

"We don't really know. Perhaps Massey is mistaken. We know he was excited," said Nelson.

"Hold hard, now," advised Uncle Jason, "It's a breach in their walls, nevertheless."

"How is that, Mr. Day?" asked the schoolmaster.

"Why, don't you see?" said Uncle Jason, puffing on his pipe in some excitement. "They have opened th' way for Doubt ter stalk in," and he chuckled. "Them committeemen have been toller'ble sure—er they've said they was—it was you stole the money, Mr. Haley. If they can't connect this coin with you at all, they'll sartain sure be up a stump. And they air a-breakin' down their own case against ye. I guess I'm lawyer enough ter see that."

"Oh, goodness, Uncle Jason! So they will!" cried Janice.

"But it does not seem reasonable that the person stealing the coins would spend one of them in Polktown," Nelson said slowly.

"I dunno," reflected Mr. Day. "I never did think that a thief had any medals fer good sense—nossir! He most allus leaves some openin' so's ter git caught."

"And if he spent the money at the tavern—and for liquor—of course he couldn't have good sense."

"I take off my hat to you on that point, Janice," laughed Nelson. "I believe you are right."

"Ya-as, ain't she?" Aunt Almira said proudly. "An' our Janice has done suthin' this time that'll make Polktown put her on a ped-ped-es-tri-an——"

"'Pedestal,' Maw!" giggled Marty.

"Wal, never mind," said the somewhat flurried Mrs. Day. "Mr. Middler said it. Mr. Haley, ye'd oughter hear all 't Mr. Middler said about her this arternoon at the meetin' of the Ladies' Aid."

"Oh, Auntie!" murmured Janice, turning very red.

"Go on, Maw, and tell us," said Marty. "What did he say?" and he grinned delightedly at his cousin's rosy face.

"Sing her praises, Mrs. Day—do," urged Nelson. "We know she deserves to have them sung."

"Wal! I should say she did," agreed Aunt 'Mira, proudly. "It's her, the parson says, that's re'lly at the back of this temp'rance movement that's goin' ter be inaugurated right here in Polktown. Nex' Sunday he's goin' to give a sermon on temperance. He said 'at he was ashamed to feel that he—like the rest of us—was content ter drift along and do nothin' 'cept ter talk against rum selling, until Janice began ter do somethin'."

"Now, Auntie!" complained the girl again.

"Wal! You started it—ye know ye did, Janice. They was talkin' about holdin' meetings, an' pledge-signin', and stirrin' up the men folks ter vote nex' Fall ter make Polktown so everlastin'ly dry that all the old topers, like Jim Narnay, an' Bruton Willis, an'—an' the rest of 'em, will jest natcherly wither up an' blow away! I tell ye, the Ladies' Aid is all worked up."

"I wonder, now," said Uncle Jason, reflectively.

"Ye wonder what, Jase Day?" demanded his spouse, with some warmth.

"I wonder if it can be did?" returned Uncle Jason. "Lemme tell ye, rum sellin' an' rum drinkin' is purty well rooted in Polktown. If Janice is a-goin' ter stop th' sale of licker here, she's tackled purty consider'ble of a job, lemme tell ye."